THE PHIAL OF MIDNIGHT
by Dr.Fawkes
Summary: [James Lily] What happens when a poor unsuspecting boy, already in love, drinks a phial of the accursed Amortentia? Angst alarm! Read at your own peril. COMPLETE.
1. Amortentia

**AMORTENTIA**

Severus Snape walked restlessly along the corridor. The potion was ready. Days of hard work had finally paid off. It had been his lifelong dream to prepare this potion and make Lily Evans fall hopelessly in love with him. Just as he was in love with her. Hopelessly.

Then he would show that obnoxious bloated-headed James Potter...

He smiled as he thought fondly of Lily Evans. She was beautiful, a poet's fantasy. And she had a heart just as golden to match.

How he regretted having lashed out at her, calling her names he knew she never deserved. But she would understand. He had been brought up in a family where muggleborns had always been considered degrading and contemptible. He had never known that muggles could be as wonderful as Lily. It was when he had come to Hogwarts that he had met her and all his ill-founded baseless prejudices had come down crumbling upon him. Slowly, even without his realization. She had defended him so many times , helped him so many times, and all he had done was abuse her, in trying to keep up with that despicable Slytherin image of himself. But he knew she would understand. He was deeply sorry for all his actions. His heart wanted him to believe she would forgive him and accept him.

In case she couldn't love him back, as a safety-measure…..He would offer her this Love Potion, mixed with the Soothing Potion that Professor Slughorn had asked him to cover in their group-assignment. Severus and Lily were partners in the Potion classes, and their teacher Professor Slughorn had asked them to prepare a Soothing Potion, and then test it on each other. This had been Severus Snape's cue.

He looked at the watch on his hand. Lily was late, which was unusual, because she was considered the clock of the school. He closed his eyes in anticipation, and smiled to himself, thinking what a balm it would be to press Lily's gorgeous head to his aching chest.

Someone bumped hard against him and he fell face downward prostrate upon the floor . A clatter told Severus that not one but two bottles had fallen down. As he raised his head in the fear that harm had come to his own bottle of potion, he felt something cold and slippery graze his hands. He looked sharply around himself, but there was no one, and then he descried his bottle several feet away from him. He ran forward to grasp it greedily. It was unharmed.

Severus felt his eyes narrow in suspicion. Who or what had been that? Could it have been……?

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James Potter sighed in relief under the safety of his invisibility cloak.

That had been a narrow escape. If Snape had caught him red-handed he would surely raise an enormous amount of ruckus over it. Snape was the Slytherin Prefect, the noodle-brained git that he was, and would surely deduct a good amount of points from Gryffindor House. For a fleeting instant James had been tempted to grab hold of Snape's greasy head and bang it against the wall, but it was too risky, especially now that Snape suspected he had an invisibility cloak. He would certainly go blabbering to Professor Slughorn, who would happily hand out a week worth's detentions to James, and James would lose the bet he had made with Remus about not getting a single detention the entire week. Besides he was carrying a bottle of Firewhiskey, which had been banned from Hogwarts, and he would be in big trouble if someone got to know that he had sneaking Firewhiskeys from Hogsmeade and hiding them amid the other ordinary bottles of the Potion-Room. Not even Sirius would spare him, for James had been doing this without _his_ knowledge too.

Making sure that no one else was around, James removed his cloak, and folding it neatly, he stuffed it inside his robes. Then he looked at the bottle in his hands.

Firewhiskey.

It was not as if James was enamoured by its taste, but Firewhiskey had after-effects which could help you forget your sorrows and rid you of your disturbing emotions. James Potter having sorrows? But surely, that sounded too bizarre …. James Potter had grown so much in the past three months that it frightened even him. And he was beginning to discover the cause for it. Something he had been overlooking since the past five years. He was in love. James Potter was in love with a girl who did not care for him at all, had been in love with her since the first day he had seen her….and had been falling in love with her ever since….much to his friends' chagrin and amusement.

And that girl was Lily Evans.

James loved Lily to the point where he was afraid he would break and shatter into pieces. His friends called him a Stalker because he used to follow her around in his invisibility cloak like a shadow. He had doodled her name on every shred of his belongings, even on his broomstick. He had carved her name on his towels as Lily Evans Potter, and had even thought of the names that he would give to their first five children together. His friends, especially Sirius, called it insanity. But he himself could find no other word for it except love. His love for her distracted him to the extreme, so much so that the notorious Firewhiskey had become his addiction, since Lily Evans did not like him in the slightest, and James Potter knew not how to grovel for the one thing he wanted most in life.

Once again, without hesitation, without further ado, he uncapped the bottle and gulped down its contents.

A nasty surprise was in store for James as he realized that this was not Firewhiskey but some other fluid, judging by its taste. His stomach was rumbling, and his head was in a whirl. Something that smelt heavenly and felt like paradise was scorching him from the inside. He felt helpless and vulnerable as he fell down to the floor in a dizzy swoon.

"Potter," a voice shook James out of his dizziness and he raised his head to see…..Lily Evans, standing above him…like an angel. Her green eyes, so beautiful that you could drown in them and would never want to come out. Her hair, her beautiful titian hair that made even the fire look pale in comparison. He so badly wanted to run his hands through her tresses. Her lips….God! So luring….

"Potter," cried out Lily again. "Are you alright?" she asked him doubtfully, because she had never seen James Potter in such a helpless stupor before.

He merely looked at her, drinking in the soft melody of her voice while an invisible being spoke into his heart.

_ KISS HER._

But Lily was clearly getting irritated. "Potter if you have nothing better to do except stare at me, as you always do, perhaps you will excuse me when I leave you here to rot."

The rapid refrain in James's heart had scared him out of his wits. Dare he do that?

_KISS HER. KISS HER_

"Potter, for the last time! What is the matter with you? Do you want me to call Madame Pomfrey?" Lily cried out exasperatedly. Then her eyes fell on the bottle. "What is that Potter? Have you been drinking? Do you have _any_ idea how many points Gryffindor has lost because of you?" She asked him angrily.

But James was incapable of speech. All the colour had drained from his face.

_KISS HER. KISS HER. KISS HER._

Without a second more thought, James lunged on Lily pulling her to the ground with himself on top, and forced his lips upon hers. He kissed her with a passion he had never known he had inside him. All that had been smouldering inside him burst into flames as he ravaged her lips, while struggling to tie her protesting limbs to himself. The kiss was ferocious, as if he wanted to suck her very soul out and into himself. The kiss was a violent one, and it felt to James that he wanted to fuse her body to himself through that aphrodisiac mouth and perhaps in that process, tear it to shreds.

The kiss lasted an eternity despite all of Lily's protests because James had overpowered her every move in trying to take that one kiss from her. He stopped when a copper taste of blood met his hungry tongue, and realized that Lily had fainted beneath him.

In a flash he realized what he had been doing and recoiled from her in shock. What savageness had he come to…

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A/N : Poor James...More to come! ...Please Review and tell me what you think! I'm re-writing this fic, and making it more angsty, thank you very much.


	2. Ignis Fatu'us

**IGNIS FATU'US**

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"_I just hope to sleep, and never awaken;  
Nothing left in this world could replace what you have taken..."  
--Sandy Cheney_  
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"We **can't** go to Pomfrey, how many times must I tell you that?" snapped Remus irritatedly for what seemed the eighth time that morning. "And not to Slughorn, either."

"But why the hell not?" whined Peter.

"You heard James," said Sirius, scowling slightly. "He doesn't want Lily to be implicated in this business. He's so bloody diluted sometimes. Argh! His life has been turned upside down, and all he cares about is whether _Miss Delicate Evans_ is safe from trouble! And he kept muttering such strange things during detention yesterday…"

"Like what?" asked Remus immediately.

Sirius shrugged. "Strange things, strange things. Like…_'It's not the potion, it's me_'…'_Lily must never know_'…'_No one can help_'…. I asked him about it several times, but he just wouldn't answer! Do love-potions make you lose your sanity, do you think?"

Remus shook his head despondently, and continued wading through the pages of the dull, musty book in front of him.

"If only we could've laid a hand on _Most Potente Potions_," said Remus, "I would never have had to ask my Dad for this _Encyclopedia of Potions_. It's too huge for comfort. And Dad was so very suspicious. I'm sure he's going to grill me like anything when the holidays roll around."

"Snape's got that book, the one you mentioned. _Most Potente Potions_," said Peter, and Sirus stiffened like a rod. 'I saw it in Snape's hands in the library. I wonder what he needs it for; probably a new kind of poison to—"

"Can we get to the issue at hand, please?" snapped Remus. "Let me remind you both, that we are currently looking for a cure against Amortentia, and not deducing—"

"Hey, check this one over here," said Sirius suddenly, his eyes gleaming. "_The Renascence Potion, a potion for lovesickness, Page 189462_."

The three boys huddled closer for a better look.

_**  
**THE RENASCENCE DRAUGHT_

_This potion is meant to reverse the effects of the Love Potion that the victim has drunk unsuspectingly and wants to be freed from. _

_The ingredients include:_

_1.Withered hide of a dragon  
This works to subdue the feelings of desire and provides the lover with inner resilience to overcome them._

_2.Melancholy-inducing treacle secretion of the Glumbumble  
This serves as an antidote to the hysteria induced by the lover's cravings-- a common effect of Love Potions._

_3. Alihotsy Leaves  
These provide insulation against the charms of the person that the victim has fallen hopelessly in love with._

_4. Nettles of the briar-rose  
These cause the victim to think that love is a futile, meaningless venture, and helps him/her to release self from the suffocating bonds of love._

_5.Water from the fountain of Lethe  
This stirs amnesia within the victim, so that he/she may forget the incident that has changed his/her life, and consequently to forget the person his/her heart is set upon.  
This ingredient is extremely expensive, but extremely important. It can be bought from the nearest Ministry of Healing (MOH) shop.  
It may be also brewed by boiling a black Caribbean Rose in the juice of the purple Peloponnesus flower on a low green flame._

_6. Lacewing Flies stewed for twenty-one days in the blood of an armadillo  
These are important so as to foment bitterness and hatred against the beloved of the victim (whom the victim loves)._

_7. Shredded root of a lily  
This frees the victim's mind from the taint of lust, guilt of neglecting his/her duty, and restores the victim's mind to its original purity. _

_The potion must be boiled in an earthen vessel in a simmering water bath for seven hours and then frozen to ice form. The potion must be drunk along with strong black tea. The victim will indeed be thankful._

_One advice, however. This potion will be useless against the Amortentia that has been drunk at midnight. If the victim fails to conform to such an exception, he will find that the potion has been ineffective and a sheer wastage of money, time and effort..._

(Here the writing had faded out.)

"I knew that my father didn't work in the Department of Lotions & Potions for nothing!" said Remus, a satisfied expression on his face.

"It's going to be really tricky, this one," said Sirius, feeling a curious mixture of both hope and despair. "I hope we don't mess up while making this potion. It could go horribly wrong."

"Wouldn't it be better if we asked Lily to make this potion?" asked Peter uncertainly. "I mean, this potion seems terribly complicated, and Lily _is_ Slughorn's protégée in Potioneering."

"Do you _ever_ pay attention in Slughorn's classes, Peter?" demanded Remus testily. "You should know by now that antidotes to love-potions must always be made by a separate third party, and never by the subjects themselves. Otherwise, the antidote never works."

"Why are you so irritable today, Remus?" asked Peter in reply, his round eyes sparkling with tears. "You aren't the only one who's worried about Prongs, you know."

Silence.

"I think we'll have to raid Slughorn's dungeon, as soon as possible," said Sirius.

None of them had noticed the warning at the base of the page, the warning which claimed that the Renascence Potion was useless against Amortentia.

Worries do make us a bit shortsighted at times.

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FOOTNOTES:

For my pals—

Anaela-loves-who, Good wishes to you!  
Mei, Lets hope you have much fun this May!  
Playgroundlove, Your praise makes me soar so high above.

Finally, this chapter has been redefined, and I'm posting it up. I'm so very sorry for the delay, and I hope the chapter's not too short. But longer chapters mean longer procrastination from studies—something which I must get rid of.

Do show me your teeth. In a laugh or in a bark.


	3. Thistles of A Rose

**THISTLES OF A ROSE**

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"_A lawful kiss is never worth a stolen one" _

_-Maupassant_  
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* * *

The Marauders had prepared the Renascence Draught with great care and utmost caution, all the time keeping James trapped under their hawkish eyes. "You must sit still," said Sirius. "Only then can the potion have effect and you will be able to drive Lily sufficiently out of your head." 

James's heart skipped a beat. It always did, whenever he heard Lily's name.

He tried to distract himself away from Lily and concentrate on the upcoming Quidditch match. He hadn't ridden his Silver Arrow since a really long time. A whole week had passed since he had last seen Lily…James shook his head. His mind had once again wandered off to Lily.

Her lips had been constantly harping on his memories. The slight curve of the upper lip like a bow, the lower one like a ripe red quarantine…. They were enough to drive anyone insane! James wondered what unknown factor it was that restrained him from taking her in his arms, and crushing her mouth with his own…. Like he had done that fateful night when he had drunk the love potion and invoked his doom.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that Lily would hate him even more if he did something so foolish, which prevented James from swooning at her feet in downright desire, and from making a lovesick public spectacle of himself. But whatever was the force that was keeping James in control, and keeping his emotions under leash, was very weak indeed, and he was hanging by a very thin thread.

James sighed softly. His friends were the best friends anyone could ever ask for, but there wee some things that they just couldn't understand. _Hell_, no one could.

"Here, James," said Remus, offering him the cold potion in a phial, and some tea in another. "Drink these up together, James, and banish this morbid infatuation for Lily."

James took the two phials from her hands. Did he really wish to banish Lily from his thoughts? Did he really wish to forget that angel? Did he really want to shove those lips away from himself forever? _Did he?_

He gulped up the contents, sighing heavily. His stomach rumbled like echo in a tunnel, and he felt his palms and forehead getting sweaty.

"How do you feel?" asked Sirius anxiously.

"I feel…nothing," said James nonplussed. Which was the truth, as he felt completely drained out of all emotion. Was it the potion at work?

Sirius looked at Remus flabbergasted. "Well, that can happen sometimes," Remus said, shrugging his shoulders. But Sirus could not derive any comfort from Remus's unconvincing tone.

"But _did_ it work?" asked Peter in his squeaky voice.

"It has to," Remus whispered nervously. "But there is only one way to find out. James must face her, and see if he still feels an urgency to kiss her."

Sirius looked half-ill, and graced James with a look of pure disgust.

It was lucky that James was still in a daze, for he would never have obeyed Remus. He whistled to his owl Athena, and Remus wrote out a short note in the blank quill surrendered by Peter.

_Dear Lily  
I have prepared the Renascence Potion, and he has drunk it. We would be very grateful if you helped him out of the "lovebug", as you promised. Will you meet him after your NEWT Herbology classes?  
Remus_

As Athena fluttered away, Remus patted James clumsily on the back. "You have no classes right today, why don't you look her up? Professor Flitwick has taken his students to Greenhouse Number #3."

"Best of luck! Said Peter, and for some reason, he looked up apologetically at Remus.

James got up, feeling empty and listless, and walked off like a man in a dream.

Sirius banged his fist against the wall. _"What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he behaving like this? I can't take this anymore!"_

"I'm so afraid for him," said Remus. James was supposed to hate Lily. Had they messed up the potion?

Peter had his head in his hands.

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* * *

James waited outside the conservatory as Professor Sprout and the students filed out slowly. He had been standing there for an hour now, feeling like a man whose life no longer had a meaning. He felt as if all his energy had been sapped out of him. 

Professor Sprout smiled at James as he passed her by. She had seen James pace to and fro in the garden outside, and then lean against the giant Eucalyptus tree in his restlessness. So that's why James had been so unfocussed and lethargic lately…. All boys went through this phase of infatuation. All boys came to the conservatory to have secret clandestine rendezvous with their girlfriends. James was human too, after all. She wondered who the lucky girl was.

Lily Evans was the last to come out. Slowly she walked, confused and tensed. She seemed to know that there was an invisible spark lurking in the air, behind the bushes, amongst the fallen autumn leaves. She stopped when she was about a yard away from James.

"Hello," she said awkwardly.

In all his life, James had never seen a girl more beautiful. Her large green eyes had dark circles under them, as if she had spent many a sleepless night. Her hair was let loose and disheveled all over her face, with a single deep red rose entwined near her ear. Her neck was the shape of a slender porcelain vase, so soft, so white, in a background of thorns in particular. Her light dress with floral prints fluttered in the breeze, wrapping her slender legs in gentle embrace. She looked so lovely and lost.

"Did it work?" she asked him anxiously. "I have not slept a wink since I got to know how you unwittingly drank that love potion…I wonder who left it there…and why…. Its illegal. I'm extremely sorry for how things have changed between us. James, you must have gone through such a terrible ordeal. You are a good friend James; I'm really concerned about you. Sirius and Remus must have made the potion correctly; they _are_ so clever. But I hope…the Renascence Potion…. Do you hate me now? The Potion has that effect, you know."

"It doesn't feel right," said James, clutching his chest.

"I understand, James," she said. "A minute ago you were in love with me, and now you feel you want to kick me. But that's natural. And expected, too; its one of the symptoms of the Renascence Potion. Your hatred for me will only last a short while, maybe two or three weeks, but after that it will be all right. It will sink into indifference. Don't worry if you hate me now. Everything will be normal again."

"I don't hate you Lily," said James, with a mad urge to fall at her feet.

"Huh?" she said in some confusion. "Oh! That's great, then, no harm done. You are OK, and things have sobered down. Love Potions have been banned at Hogwarts, but they should be banned the world over…for all the misery they put the drinker through. We really must find out who kept that phial there, James. Perhaps we should tell Madame Pomfrey, what do you think?"

"Hey, that's a swell idea," said James, really not knowing what he said while Lily looked at him with that large clear gaze.

But they had reached the end of the greenhouse, and were obliged to pause and turn. The change of movement brought a new consciousness to Lily; she blushed deeply, turned away her head, and drew her arm to a flower blossoming in the bush nearby to smell it.

"Oh!" She exclaimed in joyous child-like wonder. "What a beautiful thing it is!"

James stood motionless, and still pale. He was mute; he was incapable of putting a sentence together, and Lily bent her arm a little upward towards the large half-opened flower that had attracted her.

What a tender, beautiful arm it was! With its dimpled elbow, and all the gently lessening curves, down to the delicate wrist, with its tiniest, almost imperceptible nicks in the firm softness! Lily's was such an arm as that, and it had the warm tints of life.

A mad impulse seized on James; he darted toward the arm, and showered kisses on it, clasping the wrist.

But the next moment Lily snatched it from him, and glared at him like a wounded war-goddess, quivering with rage and humiliation.

"How dare you!" she cried out in wrath and frustration. "So you lied! You are still in love with me! You never drank the Renascence Potion, did you! Did you? I really thought that you might…"

But Lily couldn't continue. James did not allow her to continue.

The lips that had kissed her hands before were now upon her own.

James was kissing her with a violent pressure, ready to tear her mouth to shreds. His hands had grabbed her tresses so tightly that they seemed to be crying out in pain. His chest was plunging down like a harpoon upon her heaving bosom, he was crushing her bones to butter, his tongue hungrily pillaging the roof of her mouth. The kiss of death could not have been more fatal, more turbulent, or as voracious as this one kiss that James had determined to snatch from Lily. Like sunlight drinking upon dew, he was sucking her lips, as if drawing upon the virginal pool of her pure, ethereal soul. He kissed her like a storm sent to curse a city, like a plague awakened to devour a village, like a chain hooked to bind man and woman in a stranglehold of love and passion.

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* * *

A/N: 

Oh Merlin! Who wouldn't want to be kissed like that? There you go, a nice little cliffie for you.


	4. Broken Wings

**BROKEN WINGS**

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"If you don't love me, it does not matter anyway; I can love enough for both of us."

--Stendahl

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* * *

James was kissing her with a wild abandon, the trees around him blurring, the sky an endless canvas of swirling colours, the grass a slippery green sea of weeds. He was falling, falling headlong into a whirlpool at the foot of a cliff…. And meanwhile, her lips seemed the only spell that spared him from oblivion.

Suddenly, something wet had rolled down his cheek, burning him…. Once again, he sprang apart from her with incredible alacrity, horrified that he had lost control over himself for the third time that month. Every atom of his blood was singeing with shame, remorse, guilt. _Why_ did he lose himself in her eyes like that? When had he become so _bestial_? _Where _had he lost the genteel within him?

She had collapsed against the tree, shaking with tears. Tears of rage and despair that quaked her lovely honest soul, and left him demolished with each new sob. Her large doe-like eyes held such reproach and disappointment in their green depths, that he knew they would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Was his love for her so disgraceful that it had reduced her to tears?

"Lily," he reached out his arm to her in supplication, but she only retreated further away from him.

"Don't touch me!" she lashed out, and every word from her mouth fell like a gash across his heart. "Don't touch me, you hear that? You lying, scheming…. You SAID you'd take the Renascence Potion, but you lied! I'm not falling for your empty promises again! I don't care what potion or poison you drink, Potter, I don't give a damn whether you…Oh! I hate—"

"NO!" he cried out vehemently. "Not that, Lily. Anything, but _that_. You will _kill_ me, if you say that…_I'll_ kill myself, if you say that. Have you not got a smidgeon of compassion for me? Can't you see how much I love you? To the point of self-annihilation! Can't you see it?"

She looked so scared, clutching at the tree, weeping, and trembling like a leaf in a gale.

"You're cruel, so cruel," he said, his voice harsh and resonating in the silence around them. "You look at me with such fear, as if you couldn't trust me, and it is tearing me apart! You don't know how you sully my existence, when you say that my love for you is because of that—that _potion! _I don't need a paltry potion to love you, Lily! You are already a part of me. You have no inkling about what sort of boy I am, and what sort of love I'm capable of—"

"Stop it, James!" she cried, and he stopped, for either his breath was too heavy, or the sound of his name from her lips was too oppressive. "Its that potion still talking within you…. You will go mad like this! You need serious help! We must talk to--"

"Its not the bloody potion!" he yelled, taking hold of her shoulders, and shaking her. "I love you! I love you! I love you! I don't need a potion for it, _dammit_!"

Lily pushed him away, her eyes flashing with fear and anger. "You love me? So, you _love_ me? Is that right, James Potter?"

"Yes," he said, defiantly, proudly, desperately.

"Then do something for me, " she said. "If you love me, stay _away_ from me! Look at me! My parents have been murdered, my sister hates me…. How can you talk to me about love at a time like this! My life is already in ruins; I'm already an emotional wreck. I can't sustain _love_ on my plate, too! I don't need a broken heart; I don't bloody need this fiasco! So…. If you _really_ love me, then _stop_ attacking me, and leave me _alone_. Leave me in peace for the rest of eternity! Did you hear me?"

He merely stood looking at her, like a lifeless ragdoll.

Something in his face touched her, perhaps, because the very next moment, her anger had been replaced with a different emotion. _Merlin_, let it not be pity! He couldn't take her _pity_.

"James," she moaned in agony. "I cannot take this…this intensity…this degree of your _feelings_ for me…I need my space! I cannot cope with it; it's suffocating me. _You_ are suffocating me."

Suffocating her? Suffocating _her_, when she was the one who refused to give him an iota of peace day and night? When _she_ was the one who reigned his every ambition, his every action? When _she_ was the one who refused to relinquish her hold on his dreams, on his will to live? And _he_ was suffocating _her_?

A bitter jagged laugh spewed forth from his lips; _James Potter was suffocating Lily Evans_! The irony of it all!

He wanted to shake her, slap her, again and again. He wanted to clench her throat, perhaps nuzzling it as he did so…He looked away in sheer frustration.

"Fine," he said finally, his voice breaking, and every hope in his mind fleeing with the setting sun, every wound in his heart crying in mute agony. "You won't be pestered by me again. You won't hear my proclamations of love anymore. I'll never _suffocate _you again with my intensity. That's what you want, isn't it? Fine. You'll get that. And each time you pass by me in the classes or in the corridors, you don't have to recognize me either. You can pretend I'm a wall, as if I don't exist…As if you've never known me…Will that suffice? Or would you like to rip out my heart as well?"

A fresh surge of tears streamed down her cheeks. "Don't get me wrong, but I'm not worthy of your love, James. Don't waste it on me. Once that potion loses its effect--"

He turned to her with the sharp gaze of a wounded lion. "I'm sorry, Lily, but its too late now. And I know you won't like to hear it, but there's no force under the sun that can make me stop loving you. It's just not possible. You may be angry with me, and you may fear my love, but even your hatred will be enough for me to survive. You cannot ask me not to love you, Lily. I cannot give you _that_ promise."

She looked at him with something akin to compunction, her mouth contorted to fight back the howling within her. He only thought of his promise, and how helpless his love was.

And then he saw her running away, with each stride, his life spiraling into meaninglessness.

He thought his heart would shatter, would shatter into a million pieces, and wouldn't even bleed. He recalled her look of pain and mortification, again and again. And he felt the dirt between his teeth, instead of the Heaven he had been striving for.

He hated her for not believing him, for not giving him a chance. He hated her for being so beautiful. He hated her for being so selfish, and only heeding her own pain. He hated her for mocking his love, and he hated her for asking him not to love her.

He hated her.

_He loved her_.

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A shadow stood silent, lurking behind the bushes and watching the scene unfurl before him with hooded eyes.

The shadow that was Severus Snape.

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FOOTNOTES:

_God, I'm so disgusted with this story, I seriously want to haul over and PUKE. I had no idea I would be putting so much emotional melodrama in this fic, but in trying to make it angsty, I've made it into a mound of my shame. I've also realized that I italicize too many times for comfort. (Hangs head in shame. ) I'll understand if you want to flame me._


	5. Interlude

INTERLUDE

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"_**Doubt that the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love."**_

_**Shakespeare, **_**Hamlet**

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An old leather-bound diary sits snug in the pocket of a dark green school bag. Its pages are yellowed beyond memory, the ink blurred, and doxy holes run a stampede across them. Yet, the diary is priceless for its owner, cherished like a rich secret that the winds carry between their breaths.

And there, between pages 419 and 420, between the dates of 30th January, 1935 and 31st January, 1935, a folded parchment can be found.

The parchment is soiled, tattered, worn-out, just like the diary safekeeping it.

Let us unfold it, let us spread out the parchment on the rickety wooden table, and let us bend down to read it, aloud, but barely in a whisper.

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**AMORTENTIA**

_Tired of waiting for your unrequited love to bear fruit?_

_Read on, learn how to make this most potent of potions, and you will find the solution to your aching heart. _

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**Ingredients:**

1. _Frozen Ashwinder Eggs_

_These eggs, when boiled in starch water, help to ignite passion and release the drinker from his/her inhibitions._

_2. Six fresh red rose petals_

_These are necessary to add fragrance and ecstasy to the enchantment._

_3. Fluxweed picked at full noon_

_The weed must be plucked at low tide, at exact noon of the morrow, not a second earlier, and not a second later. This will ensure that the drinker may never waver in his/her love again._

_4. Three apple seeds boiled in honey_

_The Forbidden Apples of the Enchanted Isle of Blest are the parent of apple seeds all over the wizarding world. The drinker will feel blissful because of them._

_5. Twenty cups pure spring water_

_The water must be from a spring and must be pure, in order to keep the spirit of love sacrosanct. _

_6. One pinch of Rosemary_

_This will stir the drinker with a wish to impress the ladylove or dream-lover, and thrust the drinker to perform the characteristic lovelorn deeds for the same._

_7. A spoonful of crushed mint leaves_

_These will counter any dangerous effects of the potion thus brewed._

_8. Eighteen standard drops of Strawberry juice_

_These will create a powerful infatuation in the mind of the target for his ladylove/her dream-lover._

_9. Raven's feather wrapped in sugar _

_This is needed in order to sweeten the potion and to give mental strength to drinker._

_10. A twelve-inch long root of the Birch tree_

_It is added while chanting the Fraelic Charm of Isis (see Page 2136). This is the most important ingredient, for it makes the target your willing slave. That is what you want, isn't it?_

_11. Tears of a Firebird_

_These will give the drinker a lover's understanding and compassion, for they have powerful healing and restorative properties._

_12. Nine Basil leaves_

_These subdue any impurities present in the ingredients being used._

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_The mentioned ingredients are to be boiled in the spring water on the ninth hour of the ninth day of the month, by the light of nine pink votive candles. The potion must be stirred no less and no more than nine times in a pewter cauldron above a purple flame._

_Once the potion turns a deep red, remove the cauldron from the flame immediately, and allow the potion to cool._

_The power of this potion has never failed. It shall surely win you the love of the drinker (if you be the first person he/she sees). _

_But beware, for you must be the drinker's first sight, or else he/she shall shower his/her love on someone else, and you will lose him/her forever. Do not allow anyone to come before his/her eyes before _you_ do, or you will perish._

_Do not allow anyone other than your beloved to look at, touch or drink the love potion, otherwise the consequences will be dire. _

_Remember also! The potion's power is wrought to the mightiest when drunk at midnight. If the drinker is not aware, he/she may be driven to maddening intensity, and may lose sanity and self-consciousness. No love must be this destructive or manipulative. A lover that loses his/her sense of identity and joy of life can have no worth, and has little to offer, even though he/she burns in unquenchable love. _

_So, do not let your beloved drink the potion at midnight, come what may._

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Severus Snape stormed into the room, seized the parchment, and threw it into the crackling fire. He watched the flames devouring the last of his hopes, and shut his diary with a desperate groan.

His fingers traced the gold initials of his name upon the diary.

"The Half-Blood Prince," the letters spelt.

_That's the only thing I'll ever be_, Severus thought, shaking his head.

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**A/N: Oh, come on, now. Is this story a bummer? Why is it getting such few reviews? _Tell_ me.  
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	6. Nemesis

**NEMESIS**

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"_Man gives every reason for his conduct save one; every excuse for his crimes, save one; every plea for his safety, save one…. And that one reason is cowardice."_

_-George Bernard Shaw_

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The velvet feet of night are gliding away, stealthily, noiselessly, and though the sun hasn't risen yet, there is a faint tinge of red smeared upon the tree tops in the horizon. It reminds Severus of Lily's long tresses, the rouge of her lips, the blush on her cheeks, the rose in her hair.

He can still remember the day when she'd first let her hair loose, during a Quidditch match in their third year, and he'd felt, for the first time in his life, the sudden dangerous desire to _touch_ a girl's hair.

He still feels it, the desire to let his fingers spider down her silky strands, perhaps stealing a kiss or two in the process….

A moan of despair strangles his throat, and his feet skid to a halt, beside the giant birch tree, by the lake.

It is no longer night, and it is not yet day, and the entire school is still asleep. The curfew isn't over yet, the curfew hasn't begun, but Severus doesn't care. All he cares about quelling this feverish restlessness within himself. Besides, he knows that Filch fears him too much to stop him from taking this walk.

The grass is slippery, wet with early morning dew, and the green in their sharp blades is like the green in Lily's eyes….

He leans his head against the bark of the tree, his eyes tightly shut, his hands roaming all over, as if Lily's touch from yesterday still lingers upon it.

A violent shudder ripples through his chest when the vision of Lily flashes before his eyes again. Lily—and—and—that _thing_, locked in an embrace, in a kiss that was meant for _him_, for Severus….

He thinks he will do anything, _anything_, to wipe out the memory of Lily kissing that _monster_. He fears he will lose his famous control, and swoop down on her in a fit of jealous rage, to scrub her mouth clean, to shake her into reason, to force her into murdering Potter.

…And then the memory of the potion he made comes hurtling back to him, and he knows that he has fallen a victim to his own schemes. He can't blame anyone but himself for what has come to pass.

It is not the sorrow of a precious plan gone awry that pains him the most; no, the remorse is much, _much _deeper…for he is like a man who has just relinquished his dream to his worst foe.

A wave of bitterness is swamping through Severus like venom, and he tugs his tie in frustration, as if it was suffocating him.

This is Fate's way of punishing him, isn't it? This is his Nemesis, mocking him, for trying to cheat Love and for trying to trick Luck…

The sick fool that he is; did he really think that he could win Lily for himself? Well, he tried to twist Destiny, and lo! He instead became the tool for Potter to win her.

Potter, who wears his heart on his sleeve, and never hesitates to declare his love… Potter, who Lily has thwarted at every turn of her life… Potter, who was _born_ to be loved by Lily….

Yes, Lily has rejected Potter's offer of love, yes, she has rejected him. _But this is not her final answer_, Severus realizes with a sinking heart. He cannot deny the penitence, the compassion in Lily's eyes with which she looks at Potter, but never at him, _never_ at _Severus_.

Yes, Lily says she doesn't want Potter's love, and Lily has told Potter to stay away from her… But Severus knows her words are a sham, because he _always_ knows when Lily is lying.

Lily is lying to herself; she is trying to evade the Inevitable… She is fearful of Potter's intensity, which is new and strange to her. And she is fearful of Potter's effect on her, because _only _Potter, with his greedy fervour and the raw purity of his emotions, can wring out such passion from kind, sober, _patient _Lily.

Who else can boast of making Lily lose her temper, who else can boast of making her shout with unfamiliar passion? Who else has ever been able to make her laugh and cry at the same time? Who else, but Potter?

And what has Severus done? He has hastened Lily's journey to surrender; he has _hastened_ her surrender to Potter…

_Oh, if only he could rewind the past, undo the done, abolish the night he made Amortentia!_

His soliloquy comes to a halt when he encounters the crisp crackle of twigs behind him, and he turns around with an ominous misgiving.

_Speak of the devil._

James Potter stands there, looking oddly aloof and detached; not even animosity for Severus can be seen on his blank face.

"You're not supposed to be out of your Dorms at such a time," says Potter, his voice but a ghost of his usual acrid tone.

"I'm not the only one," Severus retorts.

Potter just looks at him with raised eyebrows, but remains silent. Severus feels a fresh surge of hatred for him, and his fists ball up within his robe pockets.

"You were thinking about Lily, weren't you?" asks Potter, after a short tense silence.

And immediately, Severus's fists fall limp to his sides. He is so numb with shock that it takes him a moment to realize the full meaning of what Potter has just said to him.

Potter knows his painful secret.

_He knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows…._

"I know that you'd made Amortentia, but its phial got swapped with my bottle of Firewhiskey that night," says Potter, in an even, emotionless voice. "I know that you'd meant Lily to drink it, but it was me who did so. You see, I found your name inscribed at the base of that phial."

Severus's eyes are tightly shut, and he is shaking. With anger, with despair, with self-hatred.

"I just want you to know that it's OK," says Potter, and nothing can be a worse insult to Severus's honour, nothing can be a more staggering blow to his ego. "I want you to know that I forgive you."

Severus opens his dark, brooding eyes at last, and they are flashing like a falcon's.

"I've done no sin against _you_, Potter, to make you want to _forgive_ me," he says virulently.

For the first time, an emotion flickers in Potter's hazel eyes—_surprise_.

"Haven't you got any shame for what you have done?" Potter asks. "You couldn't succeed in making Lily love you, so you decided to use treachery, you made a bloody _love potion_! Have you no repentance at all? Does it still please you, the idea that you could've made Lily love you against her will, _against her better judgment_?"

Severus wants to strike, Severus wants to clasp his hands against his ears to break off sound, and Severus wants the earth to swallow him. And all these wishes seem equally unlikely, for in _this_ lifetime, Severus is bound by the debt of life he owes to Potter.

"Lily Evans will never belong to you, Potter!" snarls Severus, even though he knows it's an utter lie. Oh, but anything, _anything_ to cause Potter pain.

Potter sneers at him, a cold cruel sneer, as if he's seeing Severus naked and the sight repulses him.

"She may not belong to me," says Potter, "but she'll never belong to you either."

The truth of Potter's statement is the worst reprimand that Severus could have given himself.

He shakes his head, his teeth clenched.

"I love her," says Severus, still shaking his head. "And I'm not sorry that I tried to gain her love in return. If I--"

Potter's high, cruel laugh spills over the grass like shards of broken glass.

"No, Snape. You are not _capable_ of love, Snape, so stop telling yourself that there's still hope left for you," says Potter, and Severus realizes that the frantic shake of his head was not invisible.

"You don't know what it is to love," grinds out Potter, and Severus starts, because he has heard the pain in Potter's voice for the first time in his life. "When you truly, _really_ love someone, it leaves you powerless, helpless. You are willing to do anything for her sake, you are ready to lay down your life to save the one you love—"

"Are you trying to imply that I can't do the same for Lily?" says Severus, incredulous anger pumping through him. "Because that's just _bullshit_!"

"Don't talk about love, Snape!" snarls Potter. "It sounds like an insult from your mouth! You wouldn't know the meaning of love even if it hit you in the face with a twelve pound Potions Encyclopedia!

"I've seen you with your mother, _Snivellus_. I've heard how your father bullies and abuses her… and _you_… You sit back, and you just let it happen! Your mother—the only person who loves you, _unconditionally_—and you can't even stand up for her! What do you know of--"

With a yell of rage, Severus grabs hold of James's collar. "Don't you dare talk about my family, Potter!"

Potter shoves Severus away with a mere thrust of his elbow.

"And what about Lily?" asks Potter contemptuously. "How many times have you called her foul names, and publicly humiliated her! How many times have you let your Slytherin cronies pester her? Did you ever help her out? No, you valued your so-called purity of blood and your reputation far too much to protect the girl you _love_! _I_ can give up the whole world for her, while _you_ can't even speak up for her, and you say that you _love_ her? Oh, for Merlin's sake, Snape!"

Suddenly, Severus doesn't know what to say anymore. He looks away.

"You are either a very bad lover, or you're a coward," says Potter. "And I'm sure _you_ know that too."

Potter's footsteps are nowhere near as loud as the one thought echoing through Severus's mind.

_You're a coward, Severus Snape._

_You're a coward._

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**A/N: Please forgive me for any mistakes that you find in this chapter; I wrote it in a bit of a hurry. You see, I just want to get it over with. It's been on Hiatus far too long. And if the story seems unrealistic, and you don't like the image of an **_aggressive_** James Potter, then please tell me so. I'll make the due efforts to correct it. ******

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	7. The Ties That Bind

**THE TIES THAT BIND**

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_"What is a friend? A single soul in two bodies."  
Aristotle_

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Sirius has never known a longer night. The stars too have fled with the winds; they seek no sad tale to damper their light.

He leans against the wall, feeling utterly wretched, and he can feel the same pain that is wreaking havoc with James's heart four corridors away. It wasn't supposed to be like this…A potion seems too harmless a thing to make them grow into men within the span of a night. It _isn't_ supposed to be like this.

The past week has been an endless torture for Sirius. It is torture to see James in pain, torture to see him bear his pain without a complaint, without a whisper of protest, without a prayer. James pretends that he has forgotten the phial of midnight, but in all his carefree ways and hollow laughs, Sirius can see the turmoil within him, even in this ongoing instant. Sirius hates it; he hates to see James acting this way, because James is not an actor, and yet James acts _so damn well_.

The mighty James Potter, invincible to his enemies, immune to sorrow, impervious to failure…He has been defeated, nay, _destroyed_ by love. The indomitable spirit of James Potter lies crumpled in despair, and the very foundation of his existence has been uprooted. And what cruel trick of fate is this that has left James Potter broken and defeated, in an abandoned, forgotten room? How is it possible?

Is this the love that poets praise and books speak of? Is this the love that finds homage in the pages of history-books? Is this the love that brings countries to kneel, and feeds fire into ashes? This doesn't seem like the love that ordinary people experience. This can't be the love that brings happiness to people.

This is different, oh so different… This kind of love can scar you, blight you, tear you into dust. This kind of all-consuming passion for one person—it's so surreal, so strange, so unbelievable.

This kind of love may be a blessing, but it is also a curse. It is beyond reason, beyond understanding; it is madness.

Haven't all great loves ended in tragedy? Haven't all famous love-stories collapsed into misery?

This is the love that forespells doom.

To Sirius, it is inconceivable that love can hold so much power, that love can be so sadistic.

"You're back," whispers a soft, silky voice, but Sirius knows who is speaking to him.

_Lady Pura Cervantes (1534 – 1612), Healer  
Founder of "The Pura Healing Home",  
Order of Morgana, First Class._  
-- So says the inscription on the portrait of this old, sweet-looking dame, if you peer closely at it.

"You seem tired, my dear boy," says Lady Pura. "Has the noble Marauder Mission been too taxing lately?"

Sirius needs to get it out of his chest, this venom boiling through his veins, this pain gnawing at his heart with its thousand teeth…He needs a release, a release. He needs it so _desperately_. And Lady Pura has always been so sympathetic, such a kindred spirit.

And it comes out, word after word, spewing like lava out of a volcano…There is no room for lies, no time for hesitation…The entire story has uncoiled; it is over, this sad, sad tale of the greatest epoch of their lives.

Sirius's words are echoing against the walls. His one last question is haunting the alcove, begging for answers.

"_Why can't Lily love James? Why is it so hard for her to give him a chance? Can't she see how his heart is breaking for her? Can't she see it?"_

"I wonder whether the mountain has bowed down, because the snow asked it to?" the Lady responds. "What tree has bended because man wanted it to? What river has rested because a boulder came unto its path? When has the sand not slipped away each time you tightened it within your fist?"

"Why do you always talk in riddles, Lady Pura?" asks Sirius, tired and exasperated. "I can't make head or tail of what you're saying."

Lady Pura smiles that strange, enigmatic smile of hers. "You cannot force love, Sirius. You see, love is like a newborn unicorn, so pure and untamed. Let it come to you of its own freewill, and it will glow like the moon. But compel it into your arms, and it will wither away and die. _You cannot force love._ It is the one thing that only fate can control. If Lily cannot love James, you cannot force her to do so."

Sirius cannot understand this thing called love. It is far too baffling, far too frightening.

"So what do we do, now?" says Sirius. "Now that the Renascence Potion has failed to work--"

"The Renascence Potion did not fail," Lady Pura interrupts. "It did not fail, because it was never needed in the first place."

Sirius splutters at her. "What do you mean?" he rasps out. "What on earth do you mean? Even _James_ keeps saying that, but he won't tell us what he means by it! If the Renascence Potion did not fail, why did he kiss her again? Why did he attack her _again_ like that? And he _did _drink Amortentia at midnight, isn't that the reason that the Renascence Potion fails?"

"Once the lion has tasted of blood, he will keep wanting it again and again," says the Lady, smiling gently at Sirius.

"You're talking in riddles again," snaps Sirius, sounding annoyed and bitter.

"Listen closely to me, Sirius," says Lady Pura. "The potion of Amortentia was invented by my friend, the esteemed Potioneer, Ada Tudor. I know more about it than any other person in Hogwarts…You should have come to me sooner, but never mind.

"The main purpose of all love-potions is to find a remedy for unrequited love. When you have been pining away for love, and your love isn't returned, what option do you have but to use Amortentia…? It is a treacherous friend, this potion, for it is unreliable and unpredictable. We foolish humans do not understand that no potion can ever create love. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, Amortentia simply causes a powerful obsession or infatuation."

"But James says he loves her," Sirius ejaculates with a strangled cry.

"James has _always_ loved Lily," says Lady Pura. "How many times have you told me of his failed attempts to woo her? He never needed Amortentia to fall in love with Lily. He was already in love with her."

"I don't understand," says Sirius.

"My dear boy," says Lady Pura, her eyes closed, "it's really very simple. Amortentia has no effect on the victim who is _already_ in love with the subject. And since James was already in love with Lily that night, Amortentia was powerless over him. But here lies the catch. James drank the love potion at _midnight, _and the power of Amortentia is wrought to its highest at midnight. So what does that lead to? It only served to conquer James's inhibitions, and created an overpowering need to kiss Lily that one time…. Just one kiss, just the one, to see what she tasted like, in the weakest moment of his life."

"So, James kissed her of his own free will?" repeats the horrified Sirius. "And not because he drank the potion?"

"That is correct," says Lady Pura, nodding her elegant head.

"But what about the incident outside the Greenhouse?" asks Sirius, flabbergasted. "Why did he kiss her again there? Why did he have to attack her again?"

"Because, the King who has tasted of love once shall be tempted to be a Pauper evermore," is her answer.

Sirius continues to stare at her, but her riddles are finally beginning to make some sense.

"He has kissed her once," says Lady Pura, ever so softly. "He has known the wonder of her touch, and he loves her so very much that it is astounding. Can you blame the poor boy for giving in to temptation one last time? Can he be blamed for wanting her again and again?"

"I hope _I'll_ never fall in love," says Sirius vehemently.

"Oh, not _all_ boys can love like James does," says Lady Pura lightly.

"So what do we do now?" asks Sirius, from the one person he can trust for advice. "Do we just sit and watch, as James destroys himself? Do we just allow James to fade away? And…and what if he hassles Lily again?"

"You needn't have any fear on those accounts," says the wise woman.

"He has a very strong will power, our James. He will survive. After all, he _has _promised Lily never to bother her again, and James keeps his promises. He will survive, for he has not yet given up the hope of having her for himself.

I think she does have a soft corner for him; she's just a bit scared. _Anyone _would be. She's been going through a hard time; and James is far too intense for comfort. It's all too much, too soon, for a sixteen-year old girl.

But you'll see, he will come out a victor in the end. In the meanwhile, all he needs is patience, and your friendship."

"I am there for him," says Sirius.

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**A/N:**

I hope this story has cleared all your remaining doubts and answered all the questions you had about it. :P

This story is Angst. Its not fluff, but Blue Dark Stormy Angst, and there's a lot of difference… Just like there's a difference between a Poem and a Ballad. Just like there's a difference between Pride &Prejudice and Wuthering Heights. I know that this kind of love does not make sense and it does not exist. I know people (including me) like the Normal romance much better than Angsty romance, but this story is just an experiment.

I've modelled Lily & James as a 1970s Romeo & Juliet, not as an ordinary couple in love. Its nonsense, I know, but its fanfiction, not the truth.

These are the prime reasons why the dialogue is heavy, James Potter is aggressive and the scenes are melodramatic.

Tell me if you don't agree with me here. Even though I think people hardly like this sort of story enough to Review.

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	8. Swan Song

**SWAN SONG**

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"…_For those who are afraid of the Night, can never live to see the Day."_

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**I**

There was once a little girl who didn't like the rain.

Perhaps she didn't like the wail of thunder or the crackle of lightening; perhaps she didn't like the alien wetness of water seeping into her warm skin. Or perhaps, it was because the raindrops seemed like the sad tears of a broken old lady…

Her elder sister laughed at her.

"You just don't like wearing mackintoshes, that's all," she said. "They make you feel clammy, don't they?"

The little girl wasn't sure—she was barely eight years old—and when had her dear _Sis_ ever been wrong?

**II**

The little girl hated her school, where the boys teased her mercilessly, the girls snubbed her all the time, and the teachers called her '_Evil's Spawn_'.

"Inferno, Inferno," they used to jeer at her, forming a ring around her and going round and round in circles, with their mocking cruel faces and derisive little sneers. She didn't have any friends, no, she was just this little oddball who always made weird things happen around her and brought disgrace upon her school and family.

"They'll be sorry one day," her father used to console her. "Just you be patient."

But patience had never been the little girl's forte, and she spent her summer holidays talking to frogs of the neighbourhood pond.

**III**

She used to look in the mirror and study her face.

"Nothing special here," she whispered to herself, disappointed, even though she had learnt to expect the worst.

How would she _ever_ get that cute new boy Finnegan to like her?

"Why am I so short?" she asked her grandfather one April morning.

"Our women have never been very tall," said Grandpa, pretending to ponder the question.

"_Sis_ is," said the little girl.

"Your Sis is an _anomaly_, Little Girl," said her Grandpa, snorting.

_I will always be little_, thought the girl. 'Little' girl—insignificant and ordinary.

Grandpa probably saw the dismay in her eyes, for he yanked her ponytail gently, and said," Little people often cast giant shadows."

The next day, she got her letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Turns out, _Sis_ wasn't the 'Anomaly' after all.

**IV**

The little girl was growing up.

And she didn't like it _one bit_.

"All the boys at Hogwarts stare at me," she told her mother, during the Christmas holidays of her third year. "It really bugs me; I mean, it's not as if I'm a creature from outer space, is it? It's not as if I've sprouted a tail and horns! There's one boy whom I dislike especially, he's always pulling pranks on me and--"

She didn't understand her mother's enigmatic smile, because she was too hurt by her sister's contemptuous expression as she passed them by.

"_Freak_," Sis had hissed at her.

Dinner that night was the unfurling of a shock.

"I've found a lovely little house for us in Seven Oaks," announced her father, putting an arm around her mother.

"Change is inevitable," her Grandpa told her wisely, when she petulantly asked him why they were shifting to a new house.

But that didn't make her like the new villa any better.

**V**

"Why don't you ever choose a different flavour of ice cream?" asked Rosamerta of the pretty little girl one day. She was the daughter of the owner of _Three Broomsticks_, and she was the amiable sort. "You always have the Vanilla scoop; why not try a new variety? How about something more exotic, like Cocoa Fairies?"

The girl made a face. "I don't like experimenting with food; it always ends up wrong for me."

Rosamerta laughed and walked back to the ice cream counter, but the girl's friend—the one with the bounteous brown curls and soft blue eyes—shook her head.

_You don't like experimenting with anything,_ thought the friend. For hadn't she used the same kind of ink and the same kind of quill throughout the year? Hadn't she worn the same smart muffler every winter, and the same black pumps on every outing?

**VI**

She was fifteen without realizing it, and was sitting with her Sis in the verandah.

"How come you've never dated before?" asked Sis, a strange glee in her cold voice. "Hasn't anybody asked you out yet?"

"I don't believe in dating," said the girl. "None of the boys in my year are serious about commitment, and I'm not interested in flings."

"Mr. Right may take a long time in coming," warned her sister.

The girl pursed up her lips thoughtfully.

"There is that annoying boy in school, you know, the one with the messy black hair? He keeps asking me out, but I think he just does it to annoy me. I mean, I've refused him and insulted him far too many times for him to still be interested in me."

Sis didn't say anything, but the girl didn't like the way her eyebrows had shot up.

The girl didn't question her sister. Sis was not the same _Sis_ anymore.

**VII**

The boy with the messy black hair and gold-rimmed spectacles had a charm of his own, she had to concede. But every time she caught him staring at her in class, every time he asked her to go out with him, every time his bottomless hazel eyes tracked her down in the hallways-- she was struck with an unidentifiable fear.

But why was she afraid of him? She was a Gryffindor, she was a soldier's daughter. It was remarkable that even though she had shouted at him innumerous times, she was also actually _afraid_ of him!

She had never known a more intense person in all her life. There were very few things he was passionate about (such as Quidditch, prank-fests, asking her out, his friends), but his kind of fervour was a brand of its own. Whatever he did, he did it with every fibre of his being, and he was not afraid to show the world his impetuosity, his _joie de vivre_, or his heart that he carried on his sleeve.

She no longer doubted his sincerity; who could? She now knew that _Romeo and Juliet_ could not have sprung merely from imagination; there must have been some_ inspiration_ too.

He had told her that he loved her, in a deserted Common Room. He had told her that his love for her was a reality that transcended the understanding of men. She had laughed heartily at that, and had snubbed him most cruelly, hoping secretly that the hurt on his face was just an act. And she was afraid.

He stopped asking her out after that, and she pretended she didn't care a Knut. But her castle of shams was a tottering ruin, and for the first time in her life, she experienced something akin to regret.

The regret might have lived on, but her parents didn't, and her entire world came tumbling down over a letter from the Ministry of Magic.

**VIII**

Then one fateful night, when she was on one of her hall patrols, she stumbled across him, and their lips met for the first time.

She could not ignore the thousands of sparks that shot down her spine, like a comet across space, like a blizzard among the sand dunes, like ice upon the ashes. She could not deny the electricity that buzzed down her veins, yet she knew it was unacceptable and insane, so she tried to protest, and failed.

It probably wasn't enough for him, for he kissed her again, outside the Greenhouse, and her doubt and her fear exploded into anger at him.

She saw the pain on his face when she told him not to love her, she saw the bitterness in his eyes, and she saw the tremor in his rigid jaw.

But she still wasn't ready to give in to Fate; she still wasn't ready to succumb.

Sixteen, after all, is hardly an age to fall in love.

**IX**

She knew he was watching her, drinking her every move like a thirsty Bedouin at the edge of a brook. She knew that his only desire was to pick her up in his arms, and lock her away in a world where only the two of them could dwell.

She had once heard him say to Remus, that she was his highest reverence, that he had put her not on the pedestal, but in the heaven above it. It was nothing but _torture_.

She saw it in his eyes, the mysterious powder of love etched upon them. She saw how listless and meaningless his life had become, for did he not lapse into fatigue as soon as she was in sight? All his ambitions seemed to have nucleated into the possibility of watching her.

She was no longer afraid of him, but she _was_ afraid that she would never be able to return those feelings that had become the essence of his existence. He loved her _too_ much; she could not love _as_ much.

That was all he lived for…. To gaze at her endlessly, as if her image was the only thing that kept him alive.

They made her feel naked, his eyes. She hated his beautiful hazel eyes, she hated them with a zeal that left her weak.

He set her on a bed of prickles, every time he looked at her like that. It was not irritation; it was not anger that streamed through her veins, whenever he gazed at her through his transparent eyes. ….Yet she wanted to yell at him, and shake him. She wanted to lash out at him, that she would NEVER love him. _NEVER._ She wanted to scream at him that they belonged to two different worlds; worlds that could _reside_ together, but never _live_ together.

But each time she told herself that they were too different to be one, each time she tried to tell herself that he was too dangerously intense and she was too easy-going and peace-loving, a song came flying to her mind unbidden, a song that her mother used to sing on their family piano…

_Dew drops and rose petals, Bread and wine, _

_Symphony and verse…. So separate, so unlike_

_But when Spring comes by, they merge, they combine_

_And a thousand dreams are born into the night…._

And are they too different to ever unite?

**X**

There is a butterfly on the window panes, looking out to the grounds below, wistfully fluttering its golden-pink wings. But the window is barred, the glass is sealed, and there isn't a way out for it.

The little girl is a woman now. She has been a woman for quite some time; she never knew when the child in her vanished, and womanhood slipped in stealthily to fill its place. She holds a hand to her beating heart, and she touches the lips that he had kissed. And now, she looks at the butterfly and smiles.

She gets up to unlatch the window.

The butterfly hesitates for a moment, as if unsure whether this is a hallucination too, just like the glass was. Then it spreads out its shimmering wings, and leaps into the night.

Lily Evans is finally ready... and a certain boy with messy black hair looks up to her window, and sees her clinquant smile...

"Lily," he whispers, when she bumps into him the next morning, and she whispers back, into his collar, into his ear.

"James".

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**_FOOTER NOTES:_**

As you can see, this chapter has a different writing-style from the previous ones. Does it work?

I tried to include Symbolisms in the story… I don't know if they are far too absurd to be noticed, or completely harebrained… Anyway, tell me if you didn't like them.

I think just one more chapter is needed, and I'll finally have the crappy story off my back. Phew!

X…X…X…X…X

To Marianna (Anonymous) and GoddessoftheMaan: There was no way for me to reply to your Review, but I just want you to know that your lovely words of encouragement really, really motivated me. So, Thank You!

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	9. Blossoms in the Dust

**BLOSSOMS IN THE DUST**

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_"Come, let us make love deathless, thou and I." _

_Herbert Trench_

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-

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James couldn't have imagined a worse date in his most terrifying nightmares. 

First, he had to be hexed by Rosier with a _Violet Hair Jinx_, and had ended up looking like a complete clown next to Lily, who looked even lovelier than usual. Then, he had to spill soup all over his robes and had kept missing his mouth with his fork, simply because he was so wound-up staring at Lily all the time. As if that wasn't enough, he had to puke on her shoes too, because he had felt so nauseous, wondering whether Lily would ever allow him a second date.

And now, to cap it all, it had started raining and they were stranded in an empty street because James had forgotten the way to the Hidden Hideout of Helga the Hideous.

"It was here the last time Sirius and I came by," said James, raking his hand furiously through his wild violet hair furiously. He was currently feeling like the biggest loser on Planet Earth, and wanted more than anything to jump off the Astronomy Tower as soon as they returned to Hogwarts.

"There must be some kind of Vanishing Charm on the cottage to make it unplottable," said Lily, frowning in contemplation. "Why else would it be called HIDDEN hide-out? Helga the Hideous was the Chieftain of the Green Goblins, was she not? A headquarters for the Great Goblin Revolution had to be concealed well, so that strangers didn't keep stumbling across it. Don't you think?"

But now, James was almost frantic with worry. His stupidity had reached an all-time high, and at this rate, Lily would never go out with him again. He wanted to curl beneath a table and die.

Trying to keep his face as impassive as ever, he said, "Lets go back; it's drizzling now. I don't want you to catch a cold…. You in that thin dress…. We came up by that route, the one next to the Giant Oak tree…" said James, pocketing his ugly clumsy hands.

His pace was furious, and it took him some time to realize that Lily was drifting yards behind him, humming softly as she approached closer.

Her red hair appeared longer today, fanned out across her shoulders like layers of rich red silk, the kind that Empresses wore. She was so pale and delicate-looking, that it seemed like a sacrilege to let the stone of the hard, dusty road hurt her tender feet. His heart ached as he studied the raindrops clutching the sooty veil of her long, luxuriant eyelashes. And suddenly, he felt ashamed of his uncouth coarseness, standing in the presence of such perfect beauty.

"James?" she said softly, and he jerked out of his reverie, a thrill echoing through his spine. It would not do to go all mushy in front of her, not now, when he was such a gruesome mess.

"Did you know that two rain drops are never alike?" she said, raising her divine eyes heavenward.

He shook his head in response; his eyes riveting to a tiny drop falling into his palm.

Like a bolt of lightning, the beauty of Nature all around him struck him. The fresh green saplings fighting to rise up against the cage of their soil, the solitary pigeon perched upon the high wall as if awaiting its mate, the aroma of the rain-soaked Earth…. He saw the raindrops splashing upon the windowsills of the abandoned shops, playing a fearless tango to drip into the green moss below…. It was indeed astounding that no two raindrops were ever alike. Not in diameter, not in shape, and certainly not in destination.

He felt something warm brush his arm, and for a moment, he was deluded that Lily had touched it, but then he realized it was only her stole.

"Why did you agree to come with me to Hogsmeade, Lily?" he blurted out querulously, before he could stop himself. "Because if it's out of pity, I'm not sure I want this."

Lily's face held the hint of a smile, as she took his large, callous hand into her dainty, tiny one, and he tried his best not to tremble at her touch.

"It was something that my Mother used to tell me," she said gently, raising his hand to her utterly soft cheek. "She'd always known that I was afraid to take risks, always wanting to stick to the safety of the certain, fearing the unknown. I was always a nervous, insecure person in my childhood, and my insecurities grew into a morbid reluctance to take risks as I grew…. And then _you_ came along into my life. You, who said that you loved me, and I was terrified, James, I was so _scared_. It was too much, too soon. I thought it was because of the potion you drank, and not because you actually loved me."

"You're so bloody slow, Lily," he said, raising up her chin with his long index finger.

She smiled again. "Then my Mother's words came crawling back to me. _Those who are afraid of the night can never live to see the day_. And it opened my eyes. I knew, I just _knew_ that I was making a mistake, forsaking the purest of blessings I could ever have. "

"And you don't think I'm arrogant or cruel anymore?" he asked her, relief and joy flooding his veins with the speed of light.

This time, she laughed. "Don't be absurd," she said. "We both know how much you've changed over the past one year…. If I called you mean or arrogant now, it would be the greatest lie ever told."

He didn't know whether it was the soft melody of Lily's voice, or whether it was the fact that she was no longer glaring at him, but actually looking at him with admiration and fondness…. He didn't know whether it was the touch of her lips beneath his fingertips, or the intoxicating, heartbreaking fragrance of her hair… But he felt as if he was weightless enough to float on a cloud, he felt as if he couldn't possibly contain the ecstasy somersaulting through his soul….

And he felt the divine rain coming down to his face, those glorious silver drops mixing with his blood, and washing away the grime and the dust….

_**Finis**_

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**FOOTERNOTES:**

There, it's finally over. To all those who have stood by this disease of a story, thank you ever SO much. May the Lily/James love saga go on and on, forever!

Dr. Fawkes


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